The Wedding Gift
by Ocean of Ashes
Summary: Neela is excited that Michael's tour in Iraq is finally over, and she plans a belated wedding gift as a welcome home surprise for him. But even the best made plans can go awry, and as always, Ray is there to pick up the pieces.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All recognisable material in this story is the property of all those who are to do with ER, not myself, and no profit is made from their use here.

Author's Note: Thought it was a while since I had written something a little smutty, and I know how much you love it, so… This is on the angsty side, but I hope you enjoy it (you have to wait for the second chapter for the smut, and the time that takes me to finish writing and post is, naturally, directly proportionate the number of reviews I receive!) Randomly, the idea for this came from a National Geographic article. Don't ask, the muses are weird creatures. This is set as if Michael didn't die, but Neela didn't move out from the apartment with Ray either.

Spoilers: None, another AU

Rating: Oh, definitely M in the second chapter.

_The Wedding Gift_

Ray was sitting in the table in the lounge, making the most of the quiet spell by having a cup of coffee and catching up on some of his charts that he had fallen behind on. There was a Cubs game on the TV in the corner, which he was half paying attention to, but he had lost track of the score and had lost interest. He heard the door open, but didn't bother to turn around to see who it was.

Then he felt a pair of hands close over his eyes.

He reached up to grab at his captor, and felt his fingers close around slender wrists and soft skin. He struggled a little, for fun, but smiled as he did so.

'Guess who?' a voice whispered in his ear, hot breath tickling his skin.

'Umm… well, I'm guessing you're a female…' he began.

'You're a bright one, you.'

'Oh, and you're sarcastic, so you must be British…'

'You've lived with me for how long, and you've only just realised that?'

Eventually, she let go of him and made her way around the table to perch on the chair next to him. She leaned over his arm to read the chart he was writing on. 'A Viagra overdose? You have to be kidding me.'

Ray chuckled. 'Nope, straight up.'

'I'm sure he was,' Neela joked.

Ray laughed at her. 'You're in a very happy mood,' he said in a mock accusatory tone. She was practically bouncing, which amused him greatly. It was so unlike her mood of the last few months, while Michael had been away in Iraq, and it was nice to see her looking so happy again. She was simply glowing; he didn't think he'd ever seen her this happy or excited, come to think of it.

'Of course I am. I can't believe Michael's going to be home tonight. The last four months have gone so slowly.'

Ray smiled at her sympathetically. He knew how hard she'd found it to be parted from her husband so early in their marriage, but Ray had done everything he could to make it easier for her. Since the band had thrown him out and moved to California, he'd gone out less, and brought the party back home even more rarely, trying to be the friend he knew she needed.

He'd bought her takeaways and beer, and sat up with her late into the night, watching movies and doing his very best to take her mind off her abandonment. Now though, Gallant was home tonight, and he was feeling distinctly superfluous. He hadn't realised until now just how much he enjoyed spending the time with her, and was sort of sorry that it was coming to an end.

If Michael was back for good this time, the chances were he would want to finish his residency somewhere, and there were no guarantees that his posting would be in Chicago. Ray wasn't quite sure how he felt at the prospect of Neela leaving; it wasn't something he really wanted to contemplate. If she went, he was going to miss her. They had spent a lot of time together recently, and he had come to think of her as his best friend, particularly since Brett and the guys had taken off. There were times, when her hair was all wild and wavy, and her eyes were shining in outrage at something he had said, that he thought he might feel something more than that for her, but that was something else he'd pushed to the back of his mind.

'I know,' he said. 'But it's over now. You'll have him back in a few hours.'

'Don't I know it.' Her eyes were gleaming with life, and he wondered what it would be like to feel that amazingly strongly about someone, that your entire life could just be worthwhile again simply by their presence.

She stood up then, and stepped over to her locker. He watched her peel her lab coat off and hang it up, then stowed her stethoscope away. She felt his eyes on her, and turned briefly to throw him a smile over her shoulder as she put on her coat and pulled her bag out, putting it over her shoulder.

'Are you going? I didn't think you were off until four.'

'I'm not, but I talked Abby into coming in early and taking the last part of my shift. I want to start getting ready for tonight.'

Ray looked at her, momentarily confused. 'I didn't think Michael was getting back until seven.'

'He isn't,' Neela replied, as if that somehow answered the question.

'Then why on earth do you need,' he paused to consult his watch, '_six hours _to get ready?' He was staring at her incredulously. He would never understand why it took women so damn long to get ready, even ones like Neela who weren't exactly given over to preening and vanity. Not that she needed to of course, she was beautiful eight days a week.

She grinned at him, a twinkle in her eye. 'Ah, that's something for Michael to know, and you never to find out.'

On that note, she hurried out of the door, leaving Ray staring after her. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy that whatever it was that she was planning, it was her husband, and not himself, that was going to get to enjoy it.

Neela didn't stop when she left the hospital, but rushed straight up the steps to the station, and caught the El to an obscure street on the other side of the city. She had an appointment and she was already running late. It had taken her ages to find this place, hours of thumbing through phone books and searching the internet. In the end, her mother had told her about it, they had had a customer in the restaurant that had a cousin who lived in Chicago who had got married last year, and she had used them.

Neela tried not to be put off when she peered in the window, and saw a fairly dark room inside, through the thick layer of dust that was slicked on the inside of the glass. Taking a breath, she turned the handle, and stepped inside. A little bell tinkled over the door as she opened it.

'Hello?' she called out tentatively. 'Is anyone here?'

After a short silence, she heard stirrings coming from behind a curtain at the back of the room and, at length, an elderly Indian woman came into view.

'Mrs Ranjani?' Neela asked.

'Yes, you must be Neela Rasgotra. Very pleased to meet you.' Neela smiled in response. She had been to India several times when she was growing up to visit family, and she had met some real relics while she was there, but she swore the woman standing, or hunching, before her now was the oldest person she had ever seen. Reputedly, however, she was the best henna tattoo artist in the entire city.

A rebellious, well hidden part of Neela, the same part that had wanted to play rock music as a teenager rather than the viola, had always had a hidden desire to get a tattoo – Ray's utterly fascinated her – but she had never been brave enough to do something so lasting, so permanent, to her body. As a consolation though, she had always promised herself that, should she ever get married, she would get a traditional Indian henna tattoo done for her wedding day. Of course, her wedding day hadn't turned out quite how she expected it to, and she had barely had the time to find a sari, let alone to sit on a couch for several hours while she had her body painted.

Now though, Michael was coming home, this time hopefully for good, and she was determined to give him the wedding gift she had planned to, if a little belatedly.

'Come through to the back room Neela, and I will make you a cup of tea.' Neela didn't have the courage to ask for coffee. If this woman was anything like her elderly relatives, she was about to get served a steaming cup of strong Darjeeling, no milk or sugar.

A couple of minutes later, and she was sitting in the room behind the curtain, sipping at the burning hot liquid. 'Now Neela, I know we spoke on the telephone, but remind me again – an old lady's mind tends to wander my dear – what was it that you wanted me to do?'

'I, umm… my husband has been away for a long time, and he's coming home tonight. I wanted to surprise him, so I thought I would get a henna tattoo. I was hoping for a whole body one I think, not just hands and feet.'

Neela looked up nervously, and Mrs Rajani smiled at her. 'All right my dear. Now, are there any particular designs you want incorporated?'

'Oh no, whatever you think is best. My husband isn't Indian, so anything very traditional might be lost on him, well, it might be a bit lost on me too, but I trust you. Anything as long as it's beautiful, and I'm sure it will be.'

'You are a very beautiful girl Neela. I can promise you that what I do will be beautiful also. Now, when you have drunk your tea –' Neela started to gulp at it, and Mrs Rajani tutted disapprovingly. 'No, no, there is no hurry. Darjeeling is there to be enjoyed, not gulped down like a glass of coca cola. Now, _when _you have drunk it, if you would take your clothes off, and put this robe on, and I will begin my work.'

'Right, okay. Yes,' Neela muttered. She couldn't believe how nervous she was. It wasn't as if it was going to hurt or anything like that. The room was cold, so the worst that could happen was that she would get a little chilly. She'd just never done anything so… adventurous before. Michael was going to get the surprise of his life. She hoped he would enjoy it.

Some hours later, and the woman had finally finished. She helped Neela up off the couch she had been lying on, and turned her towards a full length mirror. 'There, do you like what you see?' Mrs Rajani asked her.

Neela blushed a little. She was still wearing her panties, but nothing else, and she was fascinated by the way the dark lines swirled and danced over her skin. She couldn't wait to see Michael's face. 'Yes Mrs Rajani, thank you, I…'

'It is my pleasure Neela. I may be old now, but I still enjoy my artwork. And I am sure your husband will be very, very happy. Now, you get yourself dressed.'

She did as she was told, then reached into her purse, handing over the money that they had agreed on. 'Thank you again, Mrs Rajani.'

The woman waved away her words. 'Off you go, girl. Away to your husband.'

Neela smiled at her one last time, and left the shop, wrapped up against the cold winter wind, whistling in from the north off the lake. She put her wallet back in her bag, and reached in to turn her phone back on, just in case someone had been trying to get hold of her. She felt excitement coursing through her veins at the thought of what was to come. Not only did she get to see Michael again, after so long, but also she got to share this with him. She felt alive, she felt… She didn't know how to describe it. It was just incredible.

She almost ran down the street in her eagerness. She would be pushed for time to get back to the apartment and ready for Michael's arrival, but she should still have time. The El ride seemed to take forever, although several glances at her watch told her that she was still okay for time. When it was her stop, she jumped out, and hurried back to the apartment. She had about half an hour to get herself ready.

She quickly shed all the clothes she had been wearing, replacing them with her bathrobe for the meantime. After having gone into the bathroom to wash her hair quickly over the sink to get rid of the omnipresent hospital smell, she took a seat in front of her mirror, and was about to start putting some makeup on when she heard her cellphone start beeping in her bag, and, pausing, she rummaged inside it to draw it out.

A voicemail message was flashing on the screen. What with being in the hospital since six o'clock this morning, then having turned it off while she was with Mrs Rajani, she had been out of reception for most of the day, so she supposed it could have been left at any time, and just come through now. Intrigued as to who it could be, she pressed the button and listened.

And as she heard the voice on the other end of the line, she felt the happiness leak from her body and her face crumpled in heartbroken disappointment.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: As before

Author's Note: Well, here you go, part two… of three. It was beginning to get really long, so I've split it up, and you're going to have to be patient for a little bit longer I'm afraid. Sorry! With any luck, the ending will be up tonight when I've finished editing it. Sorry it's been a little while in coming, but things have been a bit hectic around here recently. I tried to get it up last night, but I was exhausted so I'm afraid I put it off until now. Thanks for the heaps of reviews on the last chapter; it's been a while since I've had that many reviews for something so it was great to get them.

It was about nine o'clock by the time Ray eventually got back to the apartment. He'd let his shift roll on for an extra couple of hours than it was meant to, but he was working on the principle that that would give Neela and Gallant, who would no doubt be out having dinner somewhere by now, the time to get ready and go out. He thought he'd slip home while the place was empty to have a quick shower and grab a change of clothes before heading out himself. He decided it was only fair that the two of them had the place to themselves for the night, and besides, he couldn't say in all honesty that he particularly wanted to lie in bed and listen to the happy couple going at it on the other side of an all too thin wall, so it was a late night bar for him.

If he managed to get lucky, well, then at least he'd get a bed for the night, but if not, it was the call room sofa for him. He'd already accepted the fact that either way, he wasn't in for a lot of sleep tonight, although he had to say he rather hoped it was the former. The call room sofa was lumpy, uncomfortable, and possessed distinctly fewer charms than a pretty brunette or buxom blonde.

As he creaked open the front door however, he got a bit of a surprise. There was a light on in the hallway and a quick glance told him Neela's coat was still hanging on its peg by the door. He groaned to himself quietly. Obviously the reunion had gone so well that they hadn't even made it to the restaurant. Well, they probably wouldn't notice him here anyway, he reasoned. He'd just make sure his turn around time was pretty swift.

He had almost reached his own bedroom when he heard an odd noise, a sort of sniffling sound, and it appeared to be coming from Neela's room. He paused in his steps and listened hard. It wasn't exactly the sort of noise he would have expected to be hearing. It sounded like she was crying.

'Neela?'

He realised then that there was no sign of Gallant. No coat on the peg, no bag in the hall, nothing. Where was he? What had happened? Ray felt a pang of rage rise up in his chest. If that thoughtless, ungrateful bastard had upset her…

There were some more sniffles, and that made him even more certain that she was in tears. Letting his bag fall to the floor, he went over to her door, and knocked on it quietly. 'Neela, are you all right? Can I come in?' When he didn't receive an answer, he reached out hesitantly to the doorknob. She hadn't invited him in, and he was reluctant to force his company on her if she didn't want it, but she was upset and he was worried about her. He pushed the curiosity over what had gone wrong in the big welcome home to the back of his mind. Making up his mind, he pushed the door open tentatively, unsure of what he might find on the other side.

In the half light of the room, lit only by the beside lamp, glowing softly golden, he could see she was sitting cross legged on the bed, dressed in a massive thick bathrobe, and absolutely sobbing her heart out.

Immediately, he rushed to her side and, sitting closely next to her, pulled her into a comforting hug. Straight away, she nestled into his shoulder, and cried some more, not caring what Ray thought of her, with her streaming eyes and running mascara.

'What's wrong Neela? What is it, what's happened?'

There was such care and concern in his voice, and it made her cry with even greater intensity. Each sob hitched heavily in her throat and she felt like they were taking her over. Tenderly, he began to rock her, stroking her hair absently and murmuring nothings to soothe her almost like you would a child. The need to comfort her, to try to take away her pain, was overriding everything else. He did wonder though, what had happened, to turn the excited, happy Neela she had been earlier in the locker room into this crying mess now.

Eventually, through the sobs, she found her voice, and managed to squeeze out, 'M-Michael's leave has been c-c-cancelled. He won't be home for another m-month.'

'Oh Neela,' he said, upset for her. He knew how much she had been building herself up to this moment. It had half killed her that Michael had wanted to go back to Iraq so soon after their wedding, and she had been so low when he was gone, and so, so excited at his return. She must be devastated at this latest turn of events. He squeezed her a little harder, trying to show his sympathy.

'I m-missed him Ray, I want him home.'

'Shh, shh, I know you do. He'll be home soon, before you know it.'

He continued to rock her in his arms, and after a very long time, Neela began to feel some of the grief and disappointment ease with Ray's comfort. He felt warm and strong against her, and she felt utterly safe in his embrace. There was something about they way he was holding her, arms encircling her firmly, one thumb very gently stroking the soft skin at the nape of her neck, that made her feel like he would always be there to look after her like this.

It was a silly thought, she knew. In only one more month, Michael would be home and everything would be okay again. She would be able to start her marriage properly, and she and Ray would… well, they'd be friends. Just as they were now.

The sobs had eased at last, and she reached up with one of her hands to wipe away some of the moisture from her cheeks.

Ray watched her as the crying began to tail off, winding down from full blown sobs to fits and starts. He still held her tightly though, enjoying the feeling of her small, slight body in his arms, her head against his shoulder and the warmth of her tears spreading across his t-shirt. At that moment, he felt like he wanted to hold her forever, and a selfish little part of him wanted her to carry on crying so he didn't have to let her go. He berated himself for the thought even before it had fully formed in his mind, but he couldn't quite manage to force it away either. After a while, he felt her stir and she lifted her hand to wipe away some of her tears.

And as she did so, he noticed something on the back of her hand. There was a pattern of curlicued stripes swirling across her skin, starting from the tips of her fingers and dancing over her hand. Among the loops and twists were dots, tiny flowers and, right on the inside of her wrist, there was what looked like a butterfly.

The lines were a very dark reddish brown, and utterly beautiful, far more creative than any tattoo he had ever seen before. Straight away, he was completely transfixed by it, and he felt rise up within him a deep, burning need to see where those lines went, to follow them from the tips of her dainty fingers up her arm to wherever their destination was with his eyes and, God help him, his lips.

Ray had become suddenly still, his fingers no longer caressing her and his arms stiff and unmoving. Alert to his sudden change, Neela eased herself away from him a little and studied his face. He was staring at her hands with the most amazing expression. He looked totally absorbed in what he was seeing, and she watched carefully as his hazel eyes flickered from hand to hand, fingertip to wrist, taking in the patterns there.

She was going to explain, but there was something in his face that made her hold her tongue. He almost looked too serious, too intense, to interrupt. If he wanted to know, she was sure he would ask.

And, eventually, he did. 'What…?' he said quietly, not meeting her eyes but continuing to follow the lines on her skin. He was tracing them on the back of her hand with one, feather light finger.

'It's a henna tattoo. It's an old Indian tradition for brides on their wedding day to get painted for their husbands. I missed out on doing it then, so I thought for tonight… but, well.' Her voice tailed off, leaving her abandonment unsaid.

She realised then just how little Ray ever did mention Michael actually. Apart from the odd word of sympathy, or listening when she wanted to talk about him, Ray never asked how he was, when she last heard from him. Day to day life between them was as if Michael didn't exist. Why was that?

He was still looking at her hands, and, proud of the tattoo even though it had been wasted, for nothing, Neela was eager to show it off. She had been sitting cross legged, her feet tucked well underneath her, so Ray hadn't yet seen that her feet and legs were done also. 'Look,' she said, and stretched her legs out in front of her. Her feet were covered in intricate designs just as her hands were, but as the robe only came to just below her knees, Ray could see on her legs that the lines continued far further up than her feet alone. She felt her pulse quicken a little when she realised he was wondering how far they went.

'Nice, isn't it?' she said casually, blinking against the rush of blood to her head. 'Not that it matters now though. It's kind of gone to waste.'

'Nice?' he croaked. 'Neela, it's beautiful.' His voice was deeper, more serious and huskier than she had ever heard it before. His intensity sent a shiver down her spine and a thrill coursing through her veins. She felt the pain of Michael, of his voluntary absence, of his cancelled leave, of hopes disappointed and promises broken just four short months into their marriage, fade to nothing, and he passed from her mind. All there was room for, at that moment, was Ray, sitting before her, comforting her, there for her, just as he'd been all along.

The finger that had been gently winding its way across the patterns on the back of her hand was caressing her more firmly now, following the lines over her wrist and as far up her arm as the sleeve of the bathrobe would allow. This time, when he asked a question, he managed to hold her gaze and the new depth of his eyes surprised her. She felt like they were pulling her in, as powerful as any rip current, sure to drown her. 'How far does it go?' he asked in a hoarse whisper.

'Well, I sort of got a whole body thing done.' She felt shy all of a sudden, and she didn't know why. This was Ray, she told herself, her friend, her roommate. He'd seen her when she was drunk, and after a double shift, and first thing in the morning when she'd forgotten to take her make up off the night before. If she hadn't been embarrassed then, why now?

She knew the answer though. This Ray now was a different person than the one she'd been living with for the last two years. There was none of his usual laid back air, his flippancy or his humour. She'd never seen him this serious before, he wasn't even smiling. And she had to say, it scared her a little.

He looked at her, a very deep look that she didn't understand. He seemed to have an intensity about him that was entirely new. Then, slowly, he spoke. 'Can I see?'

'Ray,' she exclaimed, shocked at his request. 'I'm… I'm not wearing anything under this.'

He nodded slightly, as if he was assimilating that new piece of information, then let go of the hand he was holding, and moved his own hand to the neck of the bathrobe. Tugging gently, he pulled it away from her a little, exposing her shoulder to the cold air and his hot gaze. She could almost feel her eyes burning her skin.

'Can I see?' he repeated.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: As before

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews – I would be inclined to agree, I'd let Ray see too. And I think you probably know whether or not Neela does! Okay, no more suspense and cliffhangers, here's the chapter you've been waiting for. I must learn to write smutty scenes with less build up! Hope you enjoy, and please review. Oh, and rating warning: definitely M.

_(And just to answer the anonymous review, and for everyone who was wondering really, yes, I know henna tattoos are only really for hands and feet, indeed, the National Geographic article that this idea stemmed from did say that. However, I have read in another magazine – no idea what, so don't ask! – about, someone, somewhere, who wrote about getting a more whole body (I don't mean literally by the way – I agree, that would be rather odd) one, hands, feet, belly, breasts etc much as Neela has here, so rare though it is, not impossible. And even if the idea was plucked out of thin air… well, it's a story; a bit of poetic license never hurt anyone.)_

Neela met his eyes, trying to work out what he was asking. She didn't know what to do. The tattoos were meant to be for Michael, for her husband, but she suddenly found herself _wanting _to show Ray. She _wanted _him to see her, she wanted those unfathomable eyes to follow the patterns on her hands and feet up her arms and legs to the other places she had been painted. She wanted his lips to follow the path of his eyes.

She couldn't though let him though, could she? What about Michael? Just because he wasn't home now, that didn't mean he wouldn't be home soon. He was her husband, she'd vowed to love him, and only him. And she'd meant it, she'd meant it when she'd said it in their wedding ceremony, and she'd meant it every day since he'd been gone, when she'd repeated it just to remind herself that the whole whirlwind wedding and idyllic honeymoon hadn't been a dream.

But… Michael _wasn't _here, however much she wanted him to be. He had persuaded her to marry him, tied her to him forever, then run off and left her. Oh yes, he was doing his duty and serving his country, she thought bitterly, but what about her? It wasn't _her _duty or _her _country. She didn't even believe, if she was honest, in what he was doing out there. She supported _him _of course, but not what was happening in Iraq. She couldn't.

War was a possessive mistress, and Neela had never much liked sharing her husband with it. While there was an end to it in sight, she had put up with it, knowing it was important to him, but she realised now, it sank in in a way that it hadn't before, that it would always be like this. He would leave, she would scrape and survive through an indeterminate number of months of loneliness, then he would say he was coming home, but there would always be some excuse, some other battle or war, and she'd be let down, her heart would be broken once again.

Could she really live her whole life like that? Alone but not free, longing for him to come home but knowing that even when he did, he'd leave again. And worst, the constant spectre of his possible death hanging over her. Could she do that? When all the time Ray was here, a reminder of what she could have, if only she could put aside her pride and admit her mistake. She'd always wonder, if she didn't take this opportunity now. It was wrong, but right then, _not _giving in to what she wanted, him, seemed more wrong.

Very slowly, feeling a blush creep up her neck and into her cheeks at the thought of what she was about to do, she stood up and turned so she was facing him. Then her hands went to the knot of the robe, and began to undo it, fumbling a little thanks to her trembling hands. Once it was loosened, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting her clothing fall away from her. And waited.

Ray felt the breath freeze in his throat when the robe hit the floor. He didn't know if he should say something, or what he should say, or even if he was able to. _She was just_… He was speechless. He didn't know what he was more enthralled by, the sight of her body, slim, exotically dark, _perfect_, or the lines dancing across it, swirls, dots, flowers, all placed well to highlight her every curve, accentuate every feature.

Determined to take in every part of it, of her, he took the time to properly look at her before he did anything else. He wasn't capable of doing much else yet anyway, he felt like every bone in his body had disappeared and a brief glance at his hands told her they were shaking, just as hers were. His gaze, hot and intense, began at her feet, heavily painted, then travelled slowly up her shapely legs, another design painted on her lower belly, up to her narrow waist, higher, and a vague outline of ribs under her skin, stomach muscles clenched in nerves. Her breasts had been partially painted as well, and he paused for a moment to think of her lying on some couch somewhere, bare as she was now, and at that, he felt the first stirrings of desire that he had been in too much shock to feel until now. As his gaze travelled up her throat, he saw the skin there move a little as she swallowed nervously. He knew she was waiting for him to do or say something, but he wasn't quite done yet. Finally, he lifted his gaze those last few inches and met a pair of beautiful, chocolate eyes that he decided was very best part of her. Tonight, they were warm, welcoming, and he was surprised, but unbelievably happy, to see love there. If Gallant was a fool enough to leave her, he didn't deserve her in the first place.

'You're beautiful,' he said steadily, his voice stronger now. 'I've never seen anything more beautiful.'

He wanted to tell her more than that. He wanted to tell her that he hadn't been her shoulder to cry on all this time simply because he had nothing better to do, or that he pitied her, or anything like that. He had taken care of her, looked after her and made her smile, held her as she cried, because she was the best friend he had ever had. He never would have guessed it, when he first offered her a room, but over the last two years, she had permeated every aspect of his life, and made it _so _much better. He would never have strived, in the way that he had, to be a better doctor, a better person, had it not been for her influence.

And now that slow slide of friendship had ended in this.

_Love. _

For that was what this was, he suddenly knew. If he'd come to that realisation even only a few minutes ago, he would have been sure that he was too late. Now though, now he wasn't. Now she was standing before him, not her husband, _him_, naked and stunningly, exquisitely beautiful. Even if this was only for tonight, which he hoped fervently it wasn't, then he felt like the memory would be enough to live off forever. And he intended to make it a night to remember.

Sliding off the bed, he moved so he was kneeling on the thin carpet in front of her. He looked up at her, and finally his face cracked into a smile. Encouraged, and more sure of his intentions, Neela smiled back.

'Thank you,' she said, in reply to his compliment. 'So are you.' And he was. Beautiful, caring, just a little dangerous and yet utterly trustworthy at the same time. He was everything she never realised she was looking for, until now she had found it in him.

She reached out a hand to caress his cheek, and for a minute, he leaned into her touch, the skin of her painted fingers softer than he had imagined it to be. Before he got carried away though, he stopped himself. This wasn't about him, tonight was all for her. Tonight he was going to love and cherish her like she deserved to be.

Bending forward, he began to kiss her foot, on the inside of the ankle where a minute butterfly was flapping its wings. It was a slow, sensual kiss and if it had been on her lips, she thought she might have died from the pleasure of it. As it was, she wasn't far off. She felt his tongue dart out of his mouth to tease her skin, soon followed by a gentle nip with his teeth. Her breath quickened a touch, then even more so when she felt him begin to move up her leg. Her legs here not fully painted, but just enough lines swirled upwards to give him a path to follow along the inside of her calf.

'Ray,' she breathed, and felt his lips curl into a smile against her skin as he caressed it.

By the time he had reached her knee, her eyes had slid shut in ecstasy and her chest, still sinfully bare, was rising and falling at speed as the sensations he sparked began to burn through her body. Then he slid higher still, and the hands that had been lying on his shoulders, nails resting gently on the material of his t-shirt, moved up and along his scalp, fisting in his hair, nails digging in and pulling a little harder at his hair than she should have done, as she fought to maintain control.

He was at the top of her thigh when her head tipped back and he felt her begin to wobble, her legs no longer capable of supporting her. He snaked his hands upwards to hold her firmly around her waist, doing his best to hold her up, and Neela moved her hands back to his shoulders to help her balance, knowing what was coming next.

Then she felt his tongue, tracing lazy circles around her very centre, and she couldn't help but cry his name. 'Ray, oh God,' she gasped, louder than she had intended to. 'Oh, ohh,' was all she could manage as tongue and teeth and lips worked together to drive her beyond all vestiges of reason.

The pleasure was far too much though, and as that flood of warmth began to pool in the pit of her stomach she felt her legs begin to weaken even more. His hands holding her up were not enough, and she knew with one more thrust of his tongue, she would be sure to fall to the floor.

'Ray, I can't…' she began, which she hoped would be enough by way of explanation. It was as much as she could muster right then.

Fortunately, he understood, and pulled away from her, rising to his feet. Before he did anything more, he dipped his head to kiss her properly, lips on lips for the first time, and it took both their breaths away. She could taste herself in his mouth, and she groaned desperately as she thought of what his tongue, now oh so innocently caressing her palate, had been doing just moments ago.

Ray heard the guttural noise deep in her throat as he kissed her, and it added to his arousal. He wouldn't have expected Neela to make a sound so raw, so overtly passionate, but it sounded so deliciously right, and he was thrilled that it was _him _who made her moan like that. And that was just the beginning.

Breaking away from the kiss, even though it pained him beyond words to do so, he tenderly put his arms around her and picked her up, carrying her the few steps back to the bed and laying her down on it as carefully as he would an infant or a precious china doll. She reached out to him to pull him down to her, but with one hand, he tugged his t-shirt out of her grasp and took a step backwards.

Never once taking his eyes off her, intent on watching her watch him, Ray shed his clothes quickly and entirely without shame. This was not a night in which to think or worry or reflect on what they were doing, the implications for their friendship and the consequences for her marriage. Recriminations, and he was quite certain there would be plenty, could come later. There was no room for them right then, and they both seemed to sense that without having to say.

In fact, there was the very real risk that after tonight, things would be so ruined between them that they wouldn't even be able to salvage a friendship from the complications and tortuous twists. It was a risk worth taking though, because the potential prize was enormous. What bigger prize was there than love?

He lay on the bed beside her, but she had soon pulled him on top of her, kissing him with a desperate fervour that, again, he hadn't thought her capable of. He was trying to kiss her lips, but she was everywhere, from his jaw back to below his ear, down his throat and across his chest to flick a nipple precisely with her tongue. This time it was his turn to groan, and he buried his head into the crook of her neck, hiding his face in her hair, not keen for her to see so clearly just what she was doing to him.

'Ray,' she whispered. 'Look at me. I want to see you.'

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. Immediately, he felt like he was drowning in the emotion he found there. Souls were laid bare, and now there was no going back.

She ran her painted hands up his chest and over his shoulders, raking her nails gently down his back, revelling in the feel of his muscles, more defined than she had somehow expected, playing under his skin. He groaned quietly again at her touch, and the idea that she, not some empty headed, nameless bimbo that she had heard him with too many times, was doing that to him excited her beyond words.

His head had dipped down again, and she found herself arching towards his lean body as he kissed her throat, down, and to her breast. Carefully, diligently, he followed a particular swirl across her skin, nipping her gently every inch or so, gradually drawing a line closer and closer to her nipple. She clutched at the bedsheet tightly. She needed to grab something and she was worried that if she held him, her nails would be sure to draw blood. Then he had reached the centre of his circle and his mouth closed around her nipple. At first, he just held it there, which was enough to make her moan and writhe beneath him, then, with an agonising slowness that had her begging him for more, he began to roll his tongue around it, sucking gently, then harder, adding a brief graze with his teeth to her pain.

'Ray, please, I need you.' Her desire for him had grown so high it was no less than a physical pain now, a burning ache that only he could soothe. She didn't think she'd ever wanted someone so much before, and for so many reasons. This wasn't just going to be sex, or even love; it was a connection on a much higher plane than that, and it was driving her near to the edge without him even touching her then. And from the way she could feel him, pressing hard against her thigh as he lay over her, she knew he must be feeling the same way.

He'd been intending to take longer about it, to really make her feel as loved and as cherished as he thought she deserved, but with her husky plea in his ear, it was all he could do to sustain himself right then. There would be no more waiting though. Holding himself up so he could look at her, he felt as the silky smooth insides of her legs slipped up his own to lock around his waist, and that was it.

He slid into her, her name escaping from his lips as he did so. Eyes both open and locked together, they stayed like that for a long moment, Neela already gasping in pleasure at the sensation of him inside her. Then, as slowly and precisely as he had done everything, he began to move within her, a gentle thrust to start, then, drawn deeper within her by the movements of her body beneath him, around him, he kept pace with her, trying to fulfil her moaned demands of faster and harder.

'Neela,' he groaned again, his voice raw. 'I love you.'

Neela saw his eyes change as the words slipped from his mouth. A flicker of fear entered them, as if he was afraid of her reaction. He needn't have been. She brought one of her hands up to stroke his cheek, and was about to say something through her own gasps and moans of pleasure, when she felt the burning heat that had been building in her rise up, and she arched into him, eyelids finally fluttering closed against her will.

'Ray, Ray…' she cried, her head tipped back into the pillow and her hips grinding in a quickening rhythm against his own. Then with one more thrust, her whole world imploded and the waves of ecstasy hit her, more intense than she had ever felt before, and she clung to him tightly, desperately, as if she never wanted to let him go. Just when she thought the pleasure couldn't be any better, it increased when she felt him come deep inside her, and they moved together with a natural grace, tongues dancing together in kiss to match the dance of their entwined bodies.

Finally, spent, they fell apart, utterly breathless and lost for words. Already feeling cold and empty without his touch, Neela moved herself back into his arms, and he obliged instantly, holding her against his chest where she could feel his heart still beating furiously. She gazed up at him with deep brown eyes, drinking in the look of love on his face.

She reached up to kiss him lingeringly. In the seconds before their lips collided all over again, she found her voice and the words she had been looking for, perhaps for months.

'I love you,' she whispered.

He froze, stunned, for a moment, then a smile spread across his face and before she knew it, in one fluid movement, he had flipped her onto her back once more, and was already trailing a new line of kisses from her lips to her jaw, down her throat and across her body all over again.

'Good,' he replied, his voice muffled into her skin. 'Because I'm never going to let you go.'

When, a very long time later, she lay in his arms once more, sated at last, with aching limbs and Ray's heavy, sleeping breaths tickling the skin of her shoulder, Neela felt her lips curl into a smile.

Maybe the wedding gift hadn't been such a waste after all.


End file.
